


Tag Yourself Whole

by Nox (Sheut)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Explodey things, F/F, Graffiti Art, Look I finally got a reason to stick art into something, Lots of it, Post-Fall of Overwatch, globetrotting graffiti shenanigans, meet the fic that's literally caused me to abandon like 25 other projects, not quite a graffiti au but sorta is, you better bet your ass I'm doing it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2018-11-14 07:44:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11203521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheut/pseuds/Nox
Summary: They say art brings people together.Perhaps it can bring people around as well.





	1. Think outside the box,

 

It was rather like the rhythm to a dance, Widowmaker mused as she landed on a roof. 

The quiet hiss of her grapple retracting was chased by the snap of the taut cable of time being snapped, accompanied by a blue flash. She completed her roll and spun around on one knee, firing off a round instinctively, and was rewarded with a surprised “Woah!”. Her lips tightened in a grin, and she took the opportunity to duck behind a chimney, pressing her back against the cold metal as she counted down seconds.

Three. Two. _One._

A hail of blue pulse fire rained down on the now-empty spot, and her assailant had but a heartbeat to throw herself out of the way before Widowmaker dropped down upon her from above, leg poised for a kick.

And so the dance continued.

It had become routine, this unsaid agreement between the two of them. Mission parameters would be tossed aside in favour of the chase, an unending game of cat and mouse, a stalemate between two equally matched opponents.

It wasn’t as though one wasn’t capable of killing the other - Widowmaker had lost count of how many times she had her sights centered over the glowing blue gadget, her prey unaware, only for her finger to stay from pulling the trigger. She was certain that her opponent had ample opportunity to do the same.

After all, she would not be a worthy dance partner if she could not keep up with the steps.

Widowmaker blocked a punch with her left arm, bringing the butt of her rifle up in retaliation and allowing herself a moment of satisfaction as it dug into soft flesh, causing the other woman to stumble backwards with a slight groan. She pressed forward, grabbing her opponent by the arm and savagely kicking at her feet, sending her crashing to the ground.

The figure stirred feebly, opening her eyes, only to find a foot planted on her chest and a sniper rifle barrel in her face.

“Aw,” she said, ignoring the gun and looking up into Widowmaker’s eyes with a small grin on her face, “Looks like you win this one, love.”

Widowmaker scoffed and lowered her rifle ever so slightly. “Foolish girl. This is not -” A bright fiery explosion at the periphery of her vision cut her off mid sentence, and her head whipped around in the direction of the distraction.

“Widowmaker,” Reaper’s low growl crackled in her ear, “Status report.”

She glanced briefly at the woman underneath her foot. “Operational. In pursuit of Tracer,” she droned, idly lifting her gun and firing a few rounds into the air.

Tracer let out a stifled giggle from underneath her, and she scowled.

Reaper snorted. “Right,” he drawled, “Pull back to the safehouse once you’re done fucking around.” A distant “You go girl!” floated over the comm before it cut out, and Widowmaker was left glaring at empty space.

_Branleur._

An insistent tapping against her foot made her glance down in annoyance. “ _What.”_ She ground out, directing her scowl at the insufferable pest beneath her boot.

Tracer smirked and tilted her head sideways. “Much as I like my current position- “ Widowmaker stepped backwards as though burned, “- I’ve got a chore to run.” She stood up, tucking away her guns and dusting her jacket as she walked towards the edge of the roof. “I’ll have to cut tonight a bit short. Till next time, love,” she grinned, giving Widowmaker a little parting salute before jumping off the edge of the roof.

_Chore?_ Widowmaker wondered absently as she walked towards the edge where Tracer had jumped down from, eyes following the mop of hair cheerfully bobbing through the dimly lit Latvian streets. She lingered back for a moment before making a decision, snapping her visor down and engaging the infra-tracker before firing her grapple and swinging off after Tracer.

“Sombra. Does Overwatch have any interest here?” she asked over the comm, crouching on a chimney as she watched Tracer duck into a nondescript looking house.

“Riga? Nah. They’re here because _we’re_ here.” Sombra sniggered. “Gabi’s boyfriend is pretty clingy

Widowmaker closed the connection with a snort, and returned to watching the house. This was the first time that Tracer had left one of their fights unfinished, and Widowmaker’s curiosity was piqued. What possible “chore” could Tracer have in a city where Overwatch had no interest or presence otherwise?

Fortunately, she didn’t have to wait too long. Tracer had swapped her usual gear out for an old stained blue hoodie and paint splattered tights, an equally stained backpack slung over her shoulders. She waved to someone inside the house before setting off into the night again.

Widowmaker frowned as she quietly followed her on the rooftops. There was something… _different_ about Tracer’s bearing from before. She stuck to the shadows, cautiously looking around corners before continuing walking towards her destination.

_Did she expect to be trailed?_ Widowmaker wondered, dropping back a few buildings, further increasing the distance between them. It did not seem so, since never once did Tracer look _up_ , but Widowmaker kept her distance just in case.

Tracer hopped over a low courtyard wall and came to a stop in front of a dilapidated building with a ‘Skola’ sign hanging over the door. She stared at it in contemplation, making occasional gestures with one hand before stepping back, seemingly satisfied, and set her bag down on the ground, pulling out something and setting it on the floor, prompting Widowmaker to pull up her sniper rifle and zoom in with the scope. Small metallic cans with splotches of color on them rested beside her feet as she set about putting up paper on the wall.

_Spray paint?_ Widowmaker shook her head in amusement. _Didn’t place you to be the troublemaker sort, chérie._ She paused for a moment and snorted. On second thought, Tracer was the _exact_ type of person to be a troublemaker.

She watched Tracer carefully put up pre-cut pieces of paper over the anti-omnic and vulgar graffiti decorating the walls of the school. Widowmaker lowered her rifle - this looked like it would take some time. She contemplated moving closer in order to watch without having to use her scope, but dismissed the idea as Tracer looked over her shoulder once again.

_It will not do to be spotted_. She considered her options before settling in a prone position, propping the rifle on the edge of the roof and returning to her watch.

Tracer worked with quick, sure movements, covering the large wall with paper in a relatively short span of time before stepping back with satisfaction. She knelt down again, this time pulling out a gas mask and two plastic guns, to which she attached two of the spray canisters lying on the ground.

Widowmaker watched with rapt attention as Tracer pulled on her mask and began spraying. She moved fluidly, occasionally pausing to switch cans or do more detailing with smaller stencils. Hours passed, paint pooling at the ground as Tracer worked tirelessly, and though Widowmaker knew she ought to report back to base, she couldn’t help but be curious about the final product.

What good, Widowmaker wondered, would all her hard work be for, given that it would be covered up soon anyways?

It was dawn by the time Tracer finally finished, pink chasing away the inky black of the night. She sprayed one small final detail in a corner with a flourish (a small brown bird with a forked tail) before tossing the empty can on the ground with satisfaction. She sat on the ground and pulled her mask off, fishing a packed meal from her bag and hungrily devouring it as she waited for the paint to dry.

A small streak of white paint ran across her nose, which she made no effort of wiping of. Much to Widowmaker’s irritation.

Finished with her meal, she spent a few minutes cleaning up the empty cans before reaching up once more and carefully peeling off the paper and revealing the artwork piece by piece.

_It certainly is impressive, though a foolish endeavour_ , Widowmaker thought as she took in the image of a girl sitting with a book, a black and white bird perched on the corner helping turn the page. It stood out from the mess that previously covered the wall, a spot of cheerfulness in the otherwise sad looking area.

_A fitting result, given the artist._

Clearly, this was not the first time that Tracer had done graffiti. Even Widowmaker could make out the sharp lines and the carefully laid out contrasting colors that made up the piece, and she wondered if perhaps the woman did this regularly.

Perhaps she would find out the next time they crossed paths.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks to [ Zero ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeroInvador/pseuds/ZeroInvador) and [ Buttons ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/buttons15/) for putting up with me tossing ideas for this fic around.
> 
> Skola - School  
> branleur - Wanker


	2. collapse the box,

“Lacroix.”

Widowmaker tore her attention away from the bright flowers she was staring at, the imperceptible shift of her forearm muscles the only indicator that she was caught off guard. Reaper tilted his head and she scowled. “What?”

“Are you looking for targets in that wall?” he asked dryly, sarcasm colouring his tone.

Her grip on Widow’s Kiss tightened, and she scowled harder in response. “I came here to think.”

He nodded and jerked his head towards the staircase. “Dinner is ready. Briefing is in ten. Don’t think for too long.”

Widowmaker watched his retreating form and pinched her nose. Another mission, this time in Monaco, and another brightly coloured graffiti with the now-familiar brown and black bird signing it off. Ever since Widowmaker had first noticed Tracer sneaking off to paint on the walls, she had begun to notice artwork that she hadn’t previously, always accompanied with that same bird. Sometimes it would be fresh paint, bright colours covering up holes in walls from recent gunfights or just the odd cheerful piece to bring colour to a neighbourhood. At other times it would be old and faded, previous art from when the girl had been there, but still distinguishable by the bird that flew on every other piece. 

The piece that she had definitely not been staring at depicted rows upon rows of bright colourful flowers, the bullet holes hidden artfully in the shadows between them. Widowmaker shook her head and spared another glance at the old paint on the wall before heading down the same way as Reaper.  _ Foolish girl. What use are your colours in the face of everything? _

* * *

 

It was in Dorado when Widowmaker was watching Tracer cover up a Lumerico sign with her own graffiti that Sombra joined her. They sat in silence as she meticulously put up pieces of paper and sprayed away. It was only when the first pieces of paper began to come off that Sombra hummed in approval.

“Huh. She’s good,” she said, her attention focused on Tracer rather than the holoscreen that she’d had up for a while.

“You do this?” Widowmaker asked, looking up at her. 

Sombra smiled slightly. “You could say that. I grew up as Los Muertos, it was part of gang turf duty.” She turned to face Widowmaker and jerked her head towards where Tracer was working away. “Smart, too. She’s staying away from the Muertos graffiti. They’ll like that.”

“They will?”

“Yeah.” She sat silently for a moment before she spoke again. “Tagging or painting over gang graffiti is like asking for war. It gets ugly.”

Widowmaker returned her gaze to the wall, where Tracer had now begun to peel off the papers that were put up. Bit by bit, she exposed a brightly coloured snarling ocelot, a rainbow of colours and patterns replacing the usual brown and black of the animal. Bright yellow lines exploded from the back of the head like a sunburst, and Widowmaker smiled as she took in the last piece in the art. A small grey mouse had been drawn where the Lumerico logo used to be, running away from the open mouth.

Sombra snickered beside her. “Oh, they’re gonna love it. Your girlfriend’s a ballsy one. Throwing shade on Lumerico that way? Very nice.” 

Widowmaker squashed the small smile that had been playing on her lips and scowled at Sombra. “She is  _ not _ my girlfriend.”

“If you say so amiga.”

* * *

Curiosity turned into a habit, and Widowmaker found herself trailing Tracer even on the days they did not cross paths. She found herself sneaking out and zipping across the rooftops every so often to watch the girl make her art. Sombra helped her with hiding her tracks from Talon, having cornered her one day and pressed a finger sized chip in her hand.

“You can't keep running around like this Widow,” She said, her tone uncharacteristically worried. “They'll catch you and then you'll be back at square one.”

The chip as it turned out, was the key to one of Sombra’s many safehouses, and with it, a selection of nondescript looking cars. It was also far closer to London than Annecy. Widowmaker found herself begrudgingly staying at the small apartment when she could, driving down to London before taking to the rooftops. 

Tracer’s base of operations might be Kings Row, but her art seemed to be throughout the city, worming into even the tightest alleys and nooks. It was like a living being, explosions of colour left behind in its wake as it meandered it’s way through the streets. It lit up even the dullest walls, and Widowmaker had found herself smiling more than once at the bright colours and designs during her explorations. It was during one of those trips that she came across a piece that made her pause longer than usual. Two dancers waltzed across a wall, flowers blooming along their path as they did. 

She wondered, Amelie was a dancer once. Would she have found this to be beautiful?

* * *

On the days they were both in the city, Widowmaker sat on the rooftop across Tracer’s residence (The girl paid no heed to security. Really, had she no sense?) and waited for her to leave for her artistic excursions. Kings Row was littered with Tracer’s art, from detailed murals to mere doodles. There were also works by other artists, but it seemed like they left her work alone. 

Widowmaker watched as Tracer considered her lineup of spray paints before selecting a few and placing them in her backpack. She shrugged on her jacket and pulled the hood up and slung the mask around her neck, finally picking up the backpack and slamming the door shut behind her. Widowmaker stood up and stretched. It was time to follow Tracer.

“You know, this is usually considered stalking.” 

Widowmaker gave Sombra a sideways glare before recoiling in disgust. She was standing beside her with what looked like grease and a sad fish in a takeaway box.  _ Britishers _ . “What are you doing here?”

“Definitely not  _ stalking _ like you are,” Sombra replied with a grin.

She scoffed and returned her attention to the street. She was not  _ stalking,  _ she was  _ observing _ . Her irritation with Sombra melted away as Tracer exited the building, and she watched her head off towards the omnic sector with interest.

Sombra propped herself up on the raised edge beside Widowmaker. “There she goes. Gotta say, she’s pretty dedicated to breaking the law. Chip?”

Widowmaker spared Sombra and the wiggling stick of grease another disgusted glance. “Merci. Mais non.”

She fired her grapple at the building opposite to her and swung away, a small satisfied smile playing on her lips at Sombra’s muffled exclamation of dismay. Sombra could follow using her own means if she wished to continue pestering her. She caught sight of Tracer and slowed down, coming to a stop on a building far enough that it would be hard to spot her from street level.

The girl seldom used stencils while in London. It seemed as though she treated the city like a playground that didn’t need to be cleaned up once she was done with it. She often moved to different spots within the same night, leaving her mark across the city as though she would not get the chance to do so again. Unlike the usual locations where she drew, this one seemed to be contested between different artists. New anti-omnic graffiti would be on the wall every time Widowmaker would tail Tracer - and more than once she had seen Tracer melt into the shadows when the others showed up. 

Widowmaker leant against the wall. She didn’t understand  _ why _ Tracer did what she did, but she enjoyed the art. She watched as Tracer covered the words with bright orange and blue paint, and she smiled when the orange formed into a now-familiar blue lightning bolt. Widowmaker walked up to the edge and leaned on her elbows. It looked like she’d drawn herself running from something. Would she draw the pursuer? The smile gradually faded into a scowl as it became clear that Tracer wasn’t running  _ from _ something, but rather running  _ towards  _ a figure running away that was suspiciously beginning to resemble  _ herself. _

Widowmaker fired her grapple and headed back towards where the car was stowed away, not staying for the rest of the night’s graffiti. 

Foolish girl. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fic lives! 
> 
> \o/
> 
> It's only taken like, almost a year. Gonna try and finish the fic off soon though, I don't want this to be left unfinished like other fics on this site that are definitely not my own _coughs_
> 
> The artwork is somewhat very loosely inspired by [ Farid Rueda ](https://www.widewalls.ch/artist/farid-rueda/), a brilliant street artist who hails from Mexico.


End file.
